New Beginnings
by The Desert Dancer
Summary: Lyra Redcloud flees the Sierra Madre, with tons of gold and three hostile companions in tow. Can the Courier manage to make it back home to the Mojave without everyone dying, or will she have to make some sacrifices along the way? Rated M for mature themes and adult language. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Heist Of The Centuries

 **Hey everyone, welcome to my re-write of New Beginnings. I'm planning on re-writing the entirety of the Charlotte Austen series, changing it into my new Lyra Redcloud. I'm doing this because I feel like she needs to be updated, to reflect how much I've grown as a writer. Anyway, I hope you wonderful folks enjoy it!**

 **I do not own Fallout: New Vegas, that belongs to Obsidian and Bethesda.**

The sound of bubbling pots and rustling wind filled the small hut, as a young girl with short black hair sat on the floor. An inquisitive look was evident on her face, as she looked at the only other person inside of the hut.

"Nannu, can I ask you a question?" Lyra Redcloud inquired, her head cocked to one side.

The old man called Nannu looked up, his bones creaking and cracking. The very act of lifting up his head seemed to have exhausted Nannu of every bit of his energy, as a weary sigh escaped from his tired lungs. But by the twinkle in his light blue eyes and the small smile that appeared on his weathered face, Nannu seemed excited by his young visitor.

"What is it, my child?" Nannu

"Why did you choose my name?" Lyra asked. "Lyra, I understand. But why 'Redcloud'? No-one else in our tribe has that name…"

"Because you are my special little Lyra." Nannu explained, his tired smile growing even wider. "And you deserve a special name."

"Nannu, be honest." Lyra demanded with a frown. "I'm not a little girl anymore; I'm nearly old enough to go out on expeditions with the hunters."

"Hmmm...it is true, you are no longer the little girl I once held in both my hands. I think you are old enough to know." Nannu muttered. "You know about the...head pains I get?"

"Momma says they get very bad." Lyra responded. "And that…"

"Yes?"

"She says you can see into the future." Lyra continued.

"Your Momma is right...but also wrong." Nannu explained. "I can see into the future… it is a gift granted to me by our ancestors in the night sky, to allow them to communicate with us. It can be…painful, very painful. But I don't see into the future, not really. I see more...possibilities."

"Possibilities?"

"I just see colors, animals, vases….things that will take place in the future, but not proper looks. When you were born, the ancestors gave me a vision, one of your future."

"What did you see, Nannu?"

"I saw red, so much red. Whatever your future holds, it is tied to that color." Nannu answered. "I saw a red cloth. Then...a one-headed Brahmin, coloured red. Then red hair filled my vision. And lastly….I saw red clouds."

"Red clouds?"

"Red clouds, but not a bright red. No...this red was dark and dull, almost the color of blood. It...it felt like a warning. As if the ancestors were warning you to stay away from these red clouds, that they'd only bring you pain and sorrow."

"So my name, Redcloud…"

"I gave you, as a reminder and a warning. To avoid the red clouds, to stay away from any you see. Lyra, my little Lyra...I do not want to see any harm come to you. I know you are an explorer, a hunter, a woman who loves adventure and fight. So much like your Momma, so much like your Nanna. But please...avoid the red clouds. Avoid them at all costs. I...I don't want to lose you, like...like I lost Nanna."

* * *

The Courier leant against the side of the ruined wall, weariness coursing through her veins. The foul stench of the Cloud clogged her nostrils, and she could feel her heart smashing against her chest and her back screamed in pain from the pounds of gold she was carrying. But despite all of this, despite all the aches and pains and fears, she couldn't have been more relieved. It was over, finally fucking over.

All the insanity, the worry, the threat of having her head exploded by a crazed Brotherhood elder, was finally over. She had managed to escape the Vault and had left that bastard Elijah trapped down there, stuck inside that metal cage with no hopes of escape.

A weary smile soon graced Lyra's face, as she wiped the sweat from her face and took a deep breath. She could go home now, finally. She could get back to the Lucky 38, rest in a comfy bed and be back with her beautiful red-headed lass Cassidy. Looking down at her scratched Pipboy, a frown appeared on Lyra's face as she saw she was still on the same frequency as Father Elijah's broadcast. As she went to change the frequency, the frequency kicked in.

 _"Heh... now, come on, you open up. Open up, damn you. Open the vault... I can make it worth your while, think about what you're throwing away. I have other weapons, other technology I can share with you. And the Big Empty... I know the way there. I know some of its secrets... if... The collars... the collars were a mistake, I see that now. Why would I kill you? After all you've done... after all we've done together. Are you listening to me?!"_

The relief that Lyra had previously felt quickly disappeared, as the temperature dropped several degrees. Fear started coursing through her veins, as she continued to hear from Father Elijah.

 _"Everything down here... I swear... so much you could use, you could rule the wastes with what's down here... ...make your own army, re-shape the world, and if others disagree... put collars on them, I can show you how. Don't you leave me here. You can't do this to me. Eh? Getting dark in here. Machine... machine's losing power, no. I still have Pip-Boy light... maybe... maybe... no, no, that doesn't work. Where... where is the door. Can't find the door. Calm, been in worse situations... find a way out... somehow, then find that Courier..."_

The Courier didn't know why she didn't just turn off her Pipboy, just shut it off and ignore the wild ramblings of this old man. But she couldn't find that strength to do it; her limbs had snapped into place, as if Father Elijah's words had placed a spell upon her, forcing her to listen to what he said.

 _"Maybe Veronica... no... no, she thinks I'm dead. Must be someone... maybe that other courier, one with the flag on his back... maybe... no... no, said he'd never come to the Sierra Madre... No way out. Can't….can't end like this. You. I know you can hear me. When you die, Courier…I'll be waiting. Your grave's going look just like this vault. When you die…I'll be waiting here…at the Sierra Madre. Waiting…"_

Static then filled the air, before the broadcast finally fell silent. Lyra took a deep breath and shook her head slightly, as the feeling finally returned to her limbs. She shouldn't have been this scared; Father Elijah couldn't escape. The vault was locked tight and even if Elijah could figure out how to escape the inescapable vault, he'd have to figure out how to get past all the holograms and turrets and then figure out how to rework the elevator that she'd blown up. Letting out a relieved sigh, Lyra got up and making her way towards the fountain, her bag of gold in hand.

"Enjoy your stay, Elijah." Lyra muttered. "Cause you're gonna be there a while."

 **And Chapter 1 of my re-write of New Beginnings is done and dusted! I've got a few more Chapters left, but I hope all you wonderful and awesome readers stick around for the remainder of this story! See you nice readers soon!**

 **Love,**

 **The Desert Dancer**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Sierra Madre Finale

 **Hey everyone welcome to Chapter 2 of my re-write of New Beginnings, I hope all of you wonderful folks are enjoying this story! Please leave reviews, so I can know if I'm doing a good job or not! Anyway, onto the story!**

 **I do not own Fallout: New Vegas, that belongs to Obsidian and Bethesda**

Silence had fallen in the Sierra Madre, a sound that the polluted city was quite accustomed to. But this was a different type of silence; the usual silence was a dangerous one, a silence that was waiting to be broken so it could pounce on its unsuspecting victims. But this silence…it was an empty one, devoid of all life. It filled the claustrophobic streets and the crumbling houses, suffocating what little life still remained within the toxic casino.

Three individuals stood in front of the ancient fountain, the hologram of Vera Keyes flickering above them. They eyed each other warily, clutching their weapons tightly. An aura of distrust permeated between them, with the three individuals seemingly agreeing that none of them could be trusted. Before, when their lives were on the line, some form of trust could be fostered. But no, without that explosive incentive holding them together? All bets were off and letting your guard down for even a moment possibly resulting in death.

The individual furthest to the left clutched a worn Police Pistol in his hands, a sneer plastered on his face. The man wore a dirty formal tuxedo and a pair of sunglasses, giving him an air of class. He would've been quite a looker, if it wasn't for the fact every inch of his skin was rotten and scarred. There was a name, for this type of condition; Ghoulism. His name was plastered on most of the posters nearby, sharing top billing with Vera Keyes, a name that opened many doors and plenty of opportunities; Dean Domino, actor and singer extraordinaire.

"Now, let us be realistic here." Dean stated, a hint of smugness to his voice. "It has been well over an hour since the old man and our mailman friend journeyed into that casino. Every tourist within the city bolted straight for there, and we haven't got a single scrap of news yet. I might be a betting man, but even I wouldn't be betting on her chances on surviving."

The individual in the middle let out a small chuckle at that, but it wasn't a pleasant chuckle; it was one filled with dark intent and promises sealed with blood. The individual was a mammoth of a creature, a being of immense stature and muscles. His skin was flushed a dull purple, but riddled with plenty of scars. On his chest the word 'DOG' was carved in, and his left hand wrapped around with the rusted metal of a bear trap. A Super Sledge was held tightly in his ruined hands, blood staining the weapon. This individual, his mind was once splintered, two different personas snapping and snarling at each other, a private war waged within his own mind. But now the war was over, with one persona reigning supreme and the other sleeping the long sleep.

"And something tells me you are most correct in that assumption, singer." God mumbled. "And yet here we are, waiting at this fountain like dogs waiting for treats from their master. Why are we waiting for a false hope, if we all believe that our Courier friend perished?"

"Simple, really." Dean stated. "I'm waiting for everything to die down, for those ghost people to calm down and return back to their service tunnels, so I can slip into that casino and make off with my treasure."

"Your treasure?" God inquired. "And here I thought the Old Man was arrogant; your body might have become rotten and foul, but it seems your ego continues to survive and thrive."

Dean only responded with a deep scowl, his gnarled hand gripping tightly at his Police Pistol. The dark grin on God's face grew even wider, as he took a lumbering step forward. The two were soon stopped, as they heard their other companion begin to speak.

"Smart idea, you two." The third individual stated. "Start fighting so you can alert the ghost people to our presence."

The third individual was a woman, but it was hard to tell at first glance. Her head had been shaved completely bald and her face was heavily scarred like her two companions. But whereas the scars on God and Dean were messy and natural, the woman's scars were smooth and precise; it was as if a machine had made them. A Holorifle was in her hands, aimed and ready to fire. She wore dull blue jeans and a dirty white a-shirt top that was speckled with blood. Even with all the trauma she had suffered, Christine Royce's skills as a fighter hadn't diminished one iota.

"We're staying here, for Lyra." Christine stated firmly. "It's because of her we all made it out alive, it's the least we can do for her. We're gonna be patient and wait; if she still hasn't come back by then, we charge the casino and try to save her."

"Ohoho, this is rich." Dean responded, an acidic tone to his voice. "In case you didn't realise my little nightingale, I don't take orders from anyone, least of all a girl who's been sliced up more than a slab of meat."

Christine stood there silently, an eyebrow raised, before grabbing the Holorifle and firing it at the Ghoul singer. A grunt escaped from Dean's irradiated lips, as the energy beam hit his Police Pistol, causing the gun to go flying into the air before being swallowed up by the darkness. A small chuckle escaped God's scarred lips, as he saw this scene unfold before him. Dean just stood there silently, a silent anger burning up within him.

"I guess you're in charge here, partner." Dean growled, his voice turning feral at the word 'partner'. "We'll just wait here, where any of those damn ghost could get us."

Domino went to the nearby Vending Machine, using up his chips to buy a new pistol. Silence fell around the fountain, the three individuals eyeing each other warily while keeping their guard up. After what seemed like an eternity, the sound of footsteps filled the air. Dean, God and Christine whipped around, weapons barred and ready for use. However, they soon dropped their weapons once they saw who it was.

A woman was walking towards the trio, dressed in the armour of the old Sierra Madre Security. A knife spear was attached to her back and she carried a dirty and worn burlap sack. The woman reached the fountain and dropped the sack, before removing her helmet, revealing her tired expression and her dark hair drenched in sweat.

"It's over." The Courier stated, a relieved tone to her voice. "The elevator to the vault is destroyed and Father Elijah is trapped down there. Even if he could figure out some way to escape that inescapable vault, he has to deal with turrets, security holograms, a fuckton of Cloud and an army of Ghost People before he even managed to find a new way out."

"...well, this is certainly surprise." Dean admitted. "I was fully expecting both you and the old man to have cashed out."

"Same here, Dean." Lyra admitted. "I have no idea how, but I managed to hide without Elijah seeing me at all. Walked straight into that vault, expecting to see me there."

"And so our precious Courier not only cracked the casino and manoeuvred through all the security and ghost people, you also managed to outwit the Old Man and hoist him by his own petard?" God mused, amusement evident in his eyes. "You are certainly a deceptive person, Courier; outwards, you appear to be weak and timid. But inside? You are as cunning as any of us, perhaps even more cunning."

"Well um, thanks God." Lyra muttered. "I appreciate the…compliment, I guess?"

"So, you were in the vault huh?" Dean inquired, a hungry tone to his voice. "Did you get the treasure?"

Lyra remained silent, as she opened up the burlap sack. The Ghoul singer fell deathly still, as he looked inside. The sack was filled with armour, weapons, Sierra Madre chips, but most importantly gold bars; there had to be at least 20 or 30 of those dull gold bars inside. A sickeningly wide grin appeared on Dean's face, before he pointed a his pistol at Lyra's face. Christine and God automatically reached for their own weapon, ready to attack.

"Well, now that the dust has settled, I think it's time for me to collect on my debt." Dean stated. "I've spent 200 years in this hellhole, 200 years of scrounging and struggling to survive, all to just make sure that Sinclair's treasure ended up in my hands. And I will be damned if I'll let some tourist take it from me, just because she had some help."

"Dean, I don't want the gold." Lyra answered, shaking her head slowly. "I never wanted the gold; I just wanted to get out of here alive. You can have it all, you dumb fuck."

"…..I beg your pardon?" Dean asked, a frown on his irradiated face.

"Trust me, the gold does not interest me at all." The Courier responded, before turning to her two companions. "Do either of you two want a cut?"

"Gold does not interest me." God growled. "What use would it be to carry it, if all it will do is slow me down?"

"Same here, big guy." Christine added. "The Brotherhood supplied me with most of my needs, so I'm not exactly wanting of things."

"See Dean?" Lyra pleaded. "I got the gold just for you, so you wouldn't have to die in there. Just please, don't do this. I don't want any more bloodshed or death, not after everything we've been through."

The Ghoul singer stood there silently, seemingly examining Lyra and her two friends, unsure of how to exactly proceed. Before he could say anything, a loud explosion sounded off near them. The four fighters turned around, to see ghost people slowly lumbering towards the group. Their knife spears were out and there was a bloodlust to this horde of abominations, as they lumbered forward.

"Okay, this is definitely not the time to deal with this." Lyra stated. "Let's get outta dodge, and now!"

The Courier grabbed a grenade and lobbed it forward, where it landed with a dull _clunk_. An explosion sounded off, causing limbs and blood to go flying everywhere. As the remaining ghost people tried to re-assemble themselves, Lyra and her companions had already made a beeline for the gates and making their way towards the Mojave Wastelands.

 **And Chapter 2 of the re-write of New Beginnings, I really hope all of you folks enjoy this fic! Anyway, hope to see you folks see!**

 **Love,**

 **The Desert Dancer**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Beware of Dog/God Complex

 **Hey there all you lovely and wonderful readers, welcome to the third Chapter of my re-write of New Beginnings! Sorry if its been a while, I have just been a bit busy with life. But I do hope you folks enjoy this story!**

 **I do not own Fallout: New Vegas, that belongs to Bethesda and Obsidian.**

"Where's the moon when you need it?" Lyra thought to herself, shaking her head. "Goddamn sun…"

The Courier had a tense scowl on her face, as she felt the sun beating down on her. Her Sierra Madre Security Armour had so far proven to be both a blessing and a curse. While able to protect her from most blows and cuts, the armour couldn't protect her from the intense heat of the unforgivable ball of fire that was called the sun. Lyra could feel her skin being drenched in sweat and her raven hair sticking to her scalp, as she continued to trek across the barren Wastelands with her trio of companions.

A sigh escaped from her lips, a tired aura surrounding her. Lyra missed the moon; she missed the coolness of the night sky, of being able to travel under a blanket of stars and moonlight. She loved the darkness and being able to hide in the shadows. But most importantly, she just loved staring up into the night sky and seeing the bright white stars and the moon, sitting comfortable up above as she stared down onto the earth. Unfortunately for the Courier, her companions didn't share her passion for the night time; instead, preferring to travel out in the daytime and under the scorching glare of the sun.

"Deep in thought, are we?" a snide voice interrupted.

Lyra was startled from her inner mind, her train of thought becoming severely derailed. The Courier whipped her head around, finding herself staring into the inky-black eyes of God. As much as Lyra hated to admit it, it was a gaze she struggled to keep. Lyra wasn't the biggest fan of Super Mutants, Lily being one of the sole exceptions. It wasn't anything personal, it was just...well, they just freaked her out a little bit. But God though? This wasn't just normal spookiness. There was just something about God that just set Lyra's nerves on edge.

Maybe it was his intelligence, of how he was able to string together such eloquent words and seemed to have knowledge of the world before it was doused in nuclear flames. Maybe it was his nonchalance regarding violence, treating it like an old pair of slippers you just slip on and off with ease. Maybe it was the fact that currently sleeping in the deep trenches of God's mind was a personality that constantly hungered for flesh, consuming everything in its path. Or maybe it was all those reasons combined together to form a poisonous cocktail of fear and anxiety.

"You could say that," Lyra muttered.

"I wonder what goes on in that pretty little mind of yours," God mused, as if talking to himself. "So many thoughts whirling around in that soft skull, all clambering to be noticed."

"Just thinking about how long until we reach the Mojave," Lyra lied, shrugging her shoulders.

"My my, aren't we a terrible little liar," God chuckled darkly. "What are you thinking of, truthfully?"

"Leave her alone, mutie," Christine growled from behind, a scowl on her scarred face. "She doesn't report to you."

"And you are not her mother, human," God responded. "Our Courier isn't concentrating right now; her mind is elsewhere. She could get us killed, not see something charge at us until it already has its claws sunk into her soft belly. So I wish to know what is so important to her that she will allow herself to be this distracted."

"Lyra, you don't need to answer to him," Christine stated, turning to face the Courier. "He's just being an asshole."

"No, merely not wishing to die," God explained. "I finally am free of that accursed casino. I do not wish for my freedom to be short-lived."

"…I was thinking about the sun," Lyra admitted. "About the moon, the stars, and all the sky."

"The moon and the stars?" Dean interrupted, disbelief heavy in his voice. "Oh goodness, please tell me you're not one of those hippie types…"

"Hippie?" Lyra asked, frowning. "I don't know what that is, but I don't think I am a 'hippie'. I was just thinking about was how I prefer the moon to the sun, is all."

"Sounds like a Nightkin tactic," God said, a cruel smile twisting his features. "The Master preferred that we hunted by night; made it even easier to take down our prey."

"Well, aren't you just a bundle of sunshine and lollipops," Dean snapped sarcastically. "I swear, between you, the hugger, and the scarred woman, I'm probably the only normal one here."

"You chose to stay inside of a deadly casino, filled with toxic gas and high-tech security, for over 200 years just to get back at a dead man!" Christine fired back. "You're as screwed up as the rest of us!"

The ghoul singer offered Christine an intense glare and muttered under his breath before marching on ahead. However, Domino was stopped when God placed his massive arm across his chest. Before he could say anything, God made a shushing noise, before nodding straight ahead. The quartet looked up at the indicated hill before them, and felt their blood run cold once they saw what exactly God was looking at.

Standing tall on top of the cliff was a giant, hulking creature. Its scaled skin was as dark as night, with sharp yellow teeth and curled horns. Lyra felt the bottom of her stomach giving out as she saw the Deathclaw was gorging upon a dead Yao Guai. The giant mutated reptile hadn't seemed to notice the quartet, too busy staining its dirty claws with blood and filling its belly with the meat of its prey.

Christine had already grabbed her Holorifle and was backing up, her fierce scowl deepening. God and Lyra were doing the same, while Dean stood there shocked.

"What on earth is that thing?" Dean asked. "Am I hallucinating, or am I seeing a giant lizard?"

"It's called a Deathclaw, Dean," Lyra explained. "These things are dangerous as fuck. More dangerous than any hologram or ghost person could ever hope to be."

"We might be able to sneak past it," God growled. "It hasn't picked up our scent yet; we could still get away."

"And risk getting jumped by that thing later on?" Christine scoffed. "We gotta take it out, now!"

"And what if there are more of them?" God fired back. "It's rare for Deathclaws to travel alone."

While God and Christine continued their argument, they didn't seem to notice the Deathclaw lifting its head and staring straight at them. Dean let out a worried murmur as he slowly backed away. Lyra, on the other hand, was already grabbing gas bombs and hurling them straight at the Deathclaw.

The killer monster roared in fury as the bombs exploded around it, dousing him in the toxic Cloud gas. God and Christine's argument cut short, the two quickly leapt into action; Christine fired off her Holorifle at the dazed Deathclaw, while God activated his Stealth Boy.

Shaking off the gas, the Deathclaw lunged towards the quartet. Christine and Domino aimed their guns and fired at the charging beast, while Lyra kept herself busy by tossing as many gas bombs as she could. While most of the explosives missed their marks, more than enough of them managed to hit the Deathclaw dead on. It let out ungodly screams as its pace slow down, disoriented by the barrage. The Deathclaw's howls of agony only grew louder as its left leg suddenly broke with a sickening crack. The limb exploded into a mess of cartilage and blood, its knee completely shattering, causing the Deathclaw to collapse to its remaining good knee.

Swiping and slashing at anything near it, pain giving way to rage, it was trying to kill whatever had injured it. Then blood suddenly appeared out of thin air, followed by a grunt, as a figure flickered into existence. God clutched at his right shoulder, the purple skin viciously torn apart by the Deathclaw, his eyes burning with anger.

Sensing a window of opportunity, Christine levelled her Holorifle and aimed straight at the Deathclaw's face, letting out a burst of rapid fire. The beast shrieked as its face was burnt by the energy shots. Dean fired his police pistol, hitting it in its soft belly, while Lyra rushed over to God.

The Nightkin had stumbled back, clutching at his torn shoulder. Digging into her bag, Lyra had already produced a handful of Stimpaks and was using them to help heal God's wounds.

"Don't bother with me, little Courier," God growled, trying to shoo the woman away. "We need to deal with this Deathclaw, now."

"We gotta heal you," Lyra responded. "You're bleeding pretty badly here, God."

Before the conversation could continue, a loud shriek filled the air. Lyra whipped her head around, to see the Deathclaw collapsing to the ground dead, its body a charred mess. Dean and Christine stood a few metres away, sweating and breathing heavily.

A relieved sigh escaped the Courier's lips before she turned around to look at God's shoulder. While the skin was stretched tight and more than likely going to leave some ugly scarring, the good news was that she had managed to get the bleeding to stop. The sense of calm was soon broken, though, as the sound of more roaring could be heard in the distance.

"Looks like we've angered quite a raucous crowd here," Dean stated slowly. "Let's get out of here quickly; I really would not like to do an encore."

* * *

"Well look at this," Lyra whistled. "A vehicle boneyard."

In front of the quartet stood a plethora of ancient cars and trucks, covered in rust and wear, surrounded by a broken chain-link fence. Next to this fenced off area was a garage, boarded up and looking to be on the verge of collapse. Night had fallen, washing the area in pale moonlight.

"I haven't seen a car in over 200 years," Dean mused to himself. "And now I'm seeing hundreds of them..."

"Seems to be empty, for the most part," Christine said. "That garage there looks secure enough. The entrance way is too small for any Deathclaw and Yao Guai. We can camp here for the night before moving on to the Mojave."

Lyra absentmindedly nodded to that, eyes still fixed on the numerous vehicles in front of her. The Courier had seen plenty of cars before - they were all over the Mojave wastes - but she had never seen so many of them in one place before. Lyra couldn't wrap her brain around the fact that these machines were capable of transporting whole families of people across the entire country, and somehow were even faster than any Nightstalker or Brahmin.

"You think a lot, little Courier," a dark voice mused. "You see the world differently than most. Everything seems to fascinate you, as if you are only just experiencing them."

The Courier turned around to stare into the cold eyes of God. Dean and Christine were already making their way towards the garage, ripping apart the boards that covered the door. Lyra felt a shiver run down her spine as she forced herself to continue to look at the Super Mutant; this was definitely not a time to show she was intimidated.

"Who are you, Courier? Can you even remember who you were before those bullets scarred your brain?"

"I'm Lyra Redcloud. I'm a courier…or at least, I was a courier. I've told you all this before, God."

"That is not all that you are. I can tell, you know. The stench of lies is strong on you; it is most pungent, seeping out of every pore you have. You know everything about me, about the scarred woman, and about the singer. And yet we know nothing about you, little Courier. I grow weary of the dodged questions and half-truths. I want answers - truthful answers - and I want them now. Who are you?"

"Why does it matter so much to you? Knowing my identity, my past?"

"'Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.' I am no fool, Courier. You may have defeated the old man and freed us from captivity… but I know nothing about you. That makes you very hard to trust."

The two stared at each other, neither one flinching or turning away. Even though Lyra's stomach was currently twisting with anxiety, adrenaline was also coursing through her veins. She knew she was in a scary situation, but she sure as hell wasn't gonna back down right now.

"You really wanna know? I'm Lyra Redcloud. I grew up in the Moon Sifters tribe before moving to the Mojave to become a courier."

"First truth I've heard from you in quite a while, little Courier," God stated. "You've finally stopped hiding behind shadows and masks, relying on mistruths and other falsehoods. Now, my little liar, where are you from?"

"A desert, but not the Mojave," Lyra explained. "It was called the Chihuahuan Desert, in the way back times."

"Hmmmmm, most interesting. So what are you doing here? Why aren't you back with your tribe?"

"None of your business."

"I'll just leave then. Or I could just kill you," the mutant threatened. "It'd be easy as snapping your neck. And the singer? I'd have him screaming in pain as I break every bone in his body. The scarred woman would prove difficult, given her fighting prowess, but I'd be ripping her apart sure enough. I am done with lies. I want truth now. Why are you in the Mojave?"

The Courier just stood there, her heart banging in her chest and bile rising in her throat. She didn't want this... She definitely didn't fucking want this. Her past was dead; dead the moment Benny shot her in the skull. She didn't want those memories brought up. Memories of caverns and moons, and of the tribes. Memories of little Stella or Sirius or Chief Polaris. Memories of slave collars, men dying, women crying, children fleeing…

"God, what the hell are you doing?!" Christine growled, stomping towards the two. "Why are you scaring Lyra?!"

"Our little Courier is a liar, keeping secrets from us," God explained. "And I don't like liars."

"She's entitled to some secrets!" Christine fired back. "She got us out of that casino safely and rescued us from that bastard Elijah!"

"But can you trust a woman who isn't even honest about her past?" God asked.

Without even waiting for an answer, the Nightkin walked towards the car yard, not even bothering to look back. The bag of treasures was dropped onto the ground, gold bars spilling out into the dust; a glaring reminder of the Sierra Madre. The two women merely stood there, watching him go.

Christine turned and placed her hand on Lyra's shoulder, giving a tight squeeze and a small smile. Some words were spoken, but the Courier wasn't focusing on them. She was too busy concentrating on the blood pumping in her ears and the feeling of her heart smashing against her ribcage, ready to pop out. Lyra didn't even notice Christine leaving to return to the garage, nor the sound of new approaching footsteps.

"Care for a cigarette?" Dean asked. "I've got more than enough."

"No, thank you," Lyra responded, shaking her head. "I just… I just need to clear my head a bit."

"Understandable, of course. Being interrogated by that brutish thug would rattle anyone's nerves," Dean mused as he lit a cigarette for himself. "So, is it true? You were a tribal?"

"Yes, I am a tribal. Just because my tribe is no longer around, does not mean I no longer am one."

"Poetic, in a way. So, why the change? I must admit, I am curious."

"...I just needed a new beginning," Lyra admitted. "My life... it just went to hell. I needed to start fresh."

"To begin again?" Dean inquired, a light tone to his voice.

"Yeah, if you wanna put it like that," Lyra sighed. "I just hate talking about my past. There's too much baggage there... too much heartache and sorrow. And what good is it to keep reminding myself of the past, when it'll only bring me pain?"

"…You wanna know something, my little tourist?" Dean asked. "And I will definitely not repeat this ever again. You remind me quite a bit of Vera. Take of that what you will."

The Courier frowned, unsure of what exactly Dean meant by that statement. The ghoul singer dropped his half-finished cigarette onto the ground, crushing it out with the heel of his shoe. Offering Lyra a curt nod, he turned around and headed towards the garage, leaving her alone with the moon and the stars.

 **And Chapter 3 of the New Beginnings (Re-Write) is done and dusted! I hope to get this re-write finished soon!**

 **Love,**

 **The Desert Dancer**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Skin Deep

 **I do not own Fallout: New Vegas, that belongs to Obsidian and Bethesda**

The inside of the garage had held up surprisingly well, given that it had been abandoned for who knows how long. A thick layer of dust covered everything and most of the food had gone bad, but there were still a few medical supplies and even some Sunset Sarsaparilla to tide the group over. A skeleton laid in the corner of the building, an ancient blood splatter behind its head and a rusted 9mm pistol in hand. It was obvious what had happened here, so there was no need for the quartet to talk about it.

But it was the object in the middle of the garage was what caught the group's eyes. An old Highwayman, covered in graffiti and scratches, rested comfortably in the middle of the garage. It didn't look as run down as most of the other vehicles here; it looked surprisingly intact. A desk was nearby, with a computer terminal on top of it. Lyra was currently going through the many files on the terminal, fascinated by the lore there.

"Found anything interesting?" Dean Domino inquired. "A safe stashed somewhere containing some loot, possibly?"

"…I've found something very interesting." Lyra admitted. "This car, this Highwayman, is apparently a very very special car."

"How so?" God asked. "From where I stand, this machine looks to be the same as all the other vehicles in this graveyard."

"Well, according to this terminal, this Highwayman used to belong to the Chosen One." Lyra stated slowly, a tinge of awe to her voice. "At least, before it got stolen by this group of scavengers."

The mood in the garage shifted somewhat at the Courier's statement. Christine had whipped her scarred head up, her eyes widening slightly, while God and Dean just stood there unfazed.

"The Chosen One?" Dean asked, a mocking tone to his voice. "Someone thought highly of themselves, didn't they? Might as well have called themselves Emperor…"

"The Chosen One was a hero to the people of New California," Christine explained. "Stopped the Enclave dead in their tracks, and became a legend of the NCR."

"Hmmm, that makes sense," God muttered. "Dog and I had heard stories about this Chosen One. Only whispers; murmurs about this so called hero who crushed the Enclave. So this vehicle belonged to him?"

"It belonged to her, yes," Lyra corrected. "But these scavengers apparently hijacked it, planning to sell it to some group called the Ciphers, led by some guy called Ratchet. And the last terminal update was... Holy crap, nearly four years ago!"

"Four years ago?" Christine muttered. "They must be dead, no doubt. No other explanation for why this Highwayman is still here."

"Probably got on the wrong side of one of those Deathclaw things out there," Dean mused. "Well, whatever does remain of this scavenger group, I highly doubt they're in enough pieces to care if we nick this 'Chosen One' memorabilia."

"...you mean, steal the car?" Lyra inquired.

"Why not?" Dean fired back. "It might be 200 years since I've driven one of these, but I do, in fact, know how to drive a car. Just chuck my loot in the trunk - preferably along with our violent mutant friend - and myself behind the wheel, and we should reach Vegas in no time flat."

"It's been four years since this vehicle has been used, Domino," Christine stated. "You really think it'll still work?"

At that comment, a wide grin appeared on Dean's irradiated face as he walked towards the Highwayman. The ghoul singer placed a hand on the hood of the car while Christine and the others stood back in confusion.

"Luckily for us, we do have an ace up our sleeves," Dean stated, turning around to face Christine. "My father was a car enthusiast. Spent most of his weekends dissembling and reassembling the family Buick's engine... before a stroke took him. My father forced me to sit with him and listen to him prattle on and on about Highwaymans and Buicks and Corvegas and such. And luckily for us, these memories are well ingrained into my brain. I could more than likely fix this jalopy up." He grinned. "With your help of course."

"Me?" Christine asked.

"I saw you make those counterfeit chips that managed to fool Sinclair's Vending Machines," Dean explained. "You have a knack for mechanics and tools; a real blue-collar worker. I'm sure you'd be able to figure out how this car works. Now, come on! Chop-chop! Time is money, and I'd like to be in Vegas by yesterday, thank you."

"Who put you in charge, singer?" God growled, spitting the title like it tasted foul in his mouth.

"The minute we found this little piece of treasure and found our shortcut home," Dean responded simply. "Now, you can walk all the way to Vegas... Or you can listen to me for once. Your choice."

* * *

A week had passed since Project Highwayman had begun.

It was what Dean had called it - and expected everyone else to call it - saying that the mission deserves a proper title. "Something catchy."

To no one's surprise, the Highwayman was in a sad state of disrepair and in desperate need of replacement parts. Luckily for everyone involved, however, there was an entire yard filled with replacement parts they could need and more.

Everyone had worked together, assembling and dissembling and connecting all the parts together to form one workable car. While God was ripping the ancient vehicles outside apart, salvaging any part worth saving, the Courier kept an eye out on things; making sure no Yao Guai or Deathclaw got close, and responsible for making food for everyone. Christine and Dean worked in tandem. The Brotherhood scribe and the ghoul may have growled and argued with one another constantly, but at least they managed to continue working together with relative speed.

After the week had passed, Dean had announced the car was finished. Assembling everyone into the garage, he put the car key into the ignition and turned it. The car roared to life, the sound deafening. God and Christine scowled at the noise, while Lyra quickly covered her ears and closed her eyes.

A wide grin was plastered on Domino's face as a loud laugh escaped his lips. "It worked!" he announced proudly. "I did it, I saved everyone! You may thank me all later."

"Careful there, singer," God growled. "Or your ego will grow so large, you won't be able to exit this garage."

"Oh, please, save your witty statements when we're in Vegas celebrating over a bottle of champagne and caviar," Domino fired back. "Or in your case, my mutated friend, tap water and cram. Now come on, let's all pile in!" Without even bothering to look back, Domino opened the driver door of the Highwayman and sat behind the wheel, smugness radiating off of him in waves.

God gave the broken down vehicle a distrustful glare before sitting in the backseat, his massive frame taking up most of the space. Lyra and Christine offered each other a look, silently debating over who got the passenger seat, before the Courier gave Royce a small smile and went to sit next to God. Letting out a relived sigh, Christine made her way to the passenger seat, resting her Holorifle on her lap. The sack filled with Domino's gold rested in the trunk of the Highwayman, the bag carefully tied up.

"It's one-hundred and six miles to Vegas," Dean stated to himself. "We have a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark out, and only one of us is wearing decent clothing."

"Hit it!" Lyra responded, a wry grin on her face.

* * *

The sun was slowly breaking over the horizon, and the only sound being made was of the Highwayman making its way across the dusty desert. The car had been left relatively unscathed by the local wildlife, outside of a Radscorpion that had tried to test its luck against the car before it found itself disintegrated by Christine's Holorifle.

The quartet had fallen silent since leaving the abandoned garage behind, unsure of what exactly to say. Now that all four of them actually had a moment of peace to themselves, they found that they were also unsure of what exactly to do.

Lyra looked at her three companions and bit her lower lip before she decided to break the silence. "You know, I've heard lots of stories about cars..." Lyra stated out loud. "Is it true that these things have built-in radios?"

"Not all cars," Dean answered. "But more often than not, they did have radios. And, luckily for us, this vehicle does indeed have a radio."

"...could we turn it on for a bit?" the Courier inquired hesitantly.

The singer didn't respond, instead silently reaching over to turning on the radio in the Highwayman. Static filled the cabin, causing Lyra to wince, before the ancient radio managed to pick up a signal. The sound of Vera Keye's voice, tinged with sorrow, as the first few beats of Begin Again began to play.

Almost immediately, Christine and Dean's hands both reached for the radio and wrenched it off, returning the car to its tense silence.

Domino stared straight ahead at the dusty road, an unreadable expression on his irradiated face before he spoke up. "Anyone interested in telling some stories, perhaps?" Dean inquired. "Maybe a funny anecdote or something to pass the time maybe?"

"Don't have many fun stories," Christine shrugged. "And the stories I do have aren't ones I enjoy repeating."

"My stories wouldn't interest you, unless you enjoy blood and violence," God quipped. "Maybe our little liar has some stories she would like to share?"

"God, stop badgering Lyra!" Christine stated tersely. "She can tell her stories when she's ready to, and not when you demand them!"

"No no, it's alright Christine," the Courier responded. "I... I think I should be telling my stories and stop keeping them locked away. Might help me sleep better at night, at least."

"Well then, proceed," God stated, crossing his arms.

"…Do you wanna know why I hated my bomb collar so much, why I always picked and scratched at it?" Lyra asked. "Because it reminded me too much of my youth."

Almost immediately, the air inside of the Highwayman seemed to turn cold. A shocked look flashed across Dean's face before it quickly morphed into an unreadable expression. God looked somewhat intrigued, but Christine had pure fury in her eyes.

"You mean, you were...?" Christine started, leaving the last word hanging in the air.

"Not a slave, no! Or, at least, not me personally," the Courier explained. "I grew up in a tribe, up in the Carlsbad Caverns. We called ourselves the Moon Sifters, and we were a proud tribe... until slavers came. My tribe fought long and hard, killing as many of those slaver bastards as possible, but... We lost. Our men were slaughtered, our women and children enslaved, and our history destroyed."

As she spoke, tears welled up in Lyra's eyes as painful memories flooded her brain. She remembered all the blood and corpses, the children screaming as collars were strapped around their necks and the women... the women being violated by those slaver bastards. Lyra might have forgotten plenty of memories because of those two bullets to her head, but those memories... Those were burned into her brain and would never leave her.

"How did you survive?" God inquired.

"I ran. Simple as that," Lyra explained, a hollow tone to her voice. "I was only fifteen. I thought I could take anything on. But when I saw those band of slavers, with their cattle prods and slave collars, I was scared. I was beyond petrified. I knew what happened to female slaves, and I didn't want that happening to me. I told everyone they needed to flee, to get out of there! But... that was considered the coward's way out. We were expected to stand our ground and fight for our land. But I didn't do that. I grabbed a duffle bag and fucking fled, telling myself I'd come back and maybe save some people. When I did come back... all I saw was horror and death."

An awkward silence fell inside of the Highwayman as the three other companions struggled to say something. What could one say to a story like that besides hollow apologies? The Courier then turned to God, an empty look in her eyes.

"That's my story, God," Lyra stated flatly. "That's my beginnings; the events that made me into who I am today. A coward who keeps on running, fearing my past."

"Why tell us now, when before you were so hesitant?"

"Because it's time I stopped being a coward," the Courier said, more resolute. "It's time I stopped running from my past. Time to face it head on. The story of the Moon Sifters needs to be told, so that future generations spread our stories before we get swallowed up by history. I'm the last of my tribe, and it is my duty to tell what happened. I've been negligent... Afraid. But no longer... I need to start acting like Lyra of the Moon Sifters.

"I need to embrace my past."

 **And Chapter 4 of New Beginnings is done and dusted. I would like to thank my good friend Psychomentats for proofreading this Chapter; she is an absolute angel for everything she has done. I hope to see you guys at the next Chapter!**

 **Love,**

 **The Desert Dancer**


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own Fallout: New Vegas, that belongs to Bethesda and Obsidian**

Chapter 5: Whiskey Free

"So, this is where it all started for you?" Dean inquired, an intrigued tone to his voice. "I must say, it looks like a right dump."

"It's been abandoned for a while, Dean." Lyra explained, shaking her head slightly. "I would expect it to look like a dump. Anyway, I just wanna get my things and go."

The Courier and her travelling companions found themselves standing upon the edge of the Mojave, wandering around in this abandoned Brotherhood bunker. At first, the Highwayman had proven to be more than a valuable commodity; the quartet had blazed through the irradiated Nevada wastelands, the outside world practically a blur. At least until they had encountered rocky terrain, shredding the tires to the ancient vehicle. With no way to replace or fix it, they had been forced to abandon their mode of transportation behind, letting it soak in the blazing sun and slowly rust away in the middle of who knows where.

After some travelling and cursing, the quartet finally reached the Mojave, with the Legate's Camp in the distance and Camp Forlorn Hope close by. Soon, so freaking so, they'd be back in friendly territory. But Lyra had decided to stop off at the Brotherhood bunker, the place where her entire trip to that hell on earth had begun. It definitely wasn't for any sentimental reasons; she had left a good deal of stuff back here, and she was just hoping that at least some of her stuff hadn't been scavenged. Christine and God had decided to wander around the bunker, hoping to see if there was anything worth salvaging, while Dean and Lyra stayed towards the entrance of the bunker.

The Courier was rummaging through a rusted footlocker near the base of the ladder that led to the surface, a smile soon forming on her face once she found what she had been looking for; her stuff, safe and sound. She shouldn't be surprised her stuff hadn't been touched, given how things tended to avoid this place like the plague. First she pulled out a brush gun, with what appeared to be a dreamcatcher on the stock of the weapon. Lyra turned to find Dean staring at her, a seemingly curious on his face. At least, that's what she assumed it to be; the man had a seriously good poker face, when he wanted to.

"It's called Medicine Stick; I got it from a friend of mine." Lyra explained, smiling. "The symbol apparently belonged to tribes from the Pre-War world, so I can't help but have an attachment to it. Also helps that it's a pretty kick-ass gun."

Placing Medicine Stick gently besides her, Lyra reached into the footlocker and produced another weapon. This weapon looked like a ballistic fist, but with sections of it painted yellow and an explosive's warning painted on the side.

"This is Two-Steps Goodbye; got it from a group called the Gun Runners. I've never really been good with guns and stuff; prefer using my knives and fists, sometimes explosives."

"Explosives?" Dean inquired, his irradiated face contorting into a smile. Lyra wasn't sure if that smile was a genuine one or a sarcastic one. "Remind me not to leave you alone with dynamite, then."

Before the Courier could respond to Dean's witty statement, a loud crashing sound filled the air. Dean and Lyra whipped around to look at each other, before dashing towards the origin of the crashing sound. The two entered a dirty room filled with stained books and scientific equipment; from what Lyra could guess, this must have been Father Elijah's room. To the west side of the room, Christine stood near a dirty table, scowling at the broken terminal laying at her feet. Her scarred face was twisted into an intense scowl, her eyes blazing with fury. God stood at the other end of the room, keeping his gaze directly upon the angry Brotherhood woman.

"Computer not working for you?" Dean inquired, a grin evident on his irradiated face. "Did you at least try turning it off and on again before throwing a hissy fit?"

"Shut your mouth, Ghoul." Christine snarled. "Because trust me, I am more than prepared to kill you right now."

The Ghoul singer was about to make a witty retort, before seeing the look in Christine's eyes; she definitely wasn't joking here. Domino took a step backwards, wanting to be far out of reach from the pissed off Brotherhood Knight.

"Christine, what happened?" Lyra inquired, trying to at least prevent a murder from occurring here.

"The terminal...it belonged to Elijah." Christine explained, gesturing to the destroyed terminal. "Went into detail about what he did, about his plans for the Sierra Madre. Even talked about how he kidnapped random people from off the streets and attached bomb collars to them, trying to perfect them. That fucking bastard, his hands were already tainted with blood before he even stepped foot in the Madre."

"But that's not what has unsettled the woman." God interrupted. "It was something else. Something more...personal"

Christine turned around and glared at the Nightkin, before turning around and looking straight at Dean and the Courier. Christine reached towards the table and picked up an object, before showing it to Lyra; a holotape, covered in scratches.

"Elijah...he made a holotape, for Veronica." Christine growled, spitting out the words as if they were poisonous. "Not even sorry for what he did to me, instead he begged her to take over his work, to try and continue what he started. That delusional fuck actually believed that Veronica would come here and continue his work."

"The old man obviously had a contingency plan, should he have fallen." God mused. "Delusional yes, but obviously aware enough to realise that he could have failed."

"Excuse me, but not all of us were given programs for this drama." Dean interrupted, a frown on his irradiated face. "Who exactly is this Veronica, and why does she know the old geezer?"

Lyra looked over at Chrstine, seeing how tense and furious the woman was, looking ready to snap the neck of the first person who gave her a dirty look. Biting her lip to the point she almost tasted blood, Lyra let out a small sigh.

"Veronica was Elijah's protégé, was taught about machinery and its inner workings." Lyra explained. "Elijah also forced Veronica to stop seeing her girlfriend, because same-sex relationships aren't exactly welcomed in the Brotherhood."

"Sounds a bit like the Pre-War world." Dean muttered. "I'm assuming the old man and this Veronica were close?"

"Veronica's parents died when she was young, so Elijah became a father-figure to her." Christine stated. "He always had a soft spot for her, as shown by this holotape; of all the people Elijah knew, Veronica was the one he trusted most."

"…..should we destroy the holotape?" Lyra inquired. "I mean, it's up to you Christine; you know Veronica and Elijah better than any of us here."

The Brotherhood Knight fell silent and let out a tired sigh, as her three travelling companions waited for her decision. After a few moments, a frown appeared on Christine's face and a determined look in her eyes, as she pocketed the holotape.

"I need to give this to Veronica." Christine stated firmly. "She needs to hear with her own ears, proof of what Elijah was doing."

* * *

"Cassidy, I know you might not want to hear this." Arcade stated, a frown on his face. "But sleep isn't exactly optional, it's a requirement. When was the last time you had a full night of sleep?"

The former caravaner turned her head to face the Followers doctor, with a glare so intense it would have sent lesser men running for the hills. Arcade, however, was used to Cassidy's foul moods and stood his grounds.

"I don't fuckin' know...ages ago. Don't keep a fucking calender, Gannon." Cassidy muttered, going through the papers in her hands. "I'll sleep when I die."

The former caravaner whipped around, heading towards her bedroom to pour over these new documents she got. It was obvious to everyone that Cassidy was working herself to death. Deep bags were evident under her eyes, her hair stuck to her scalp and looked unruly and she had been snapping at everyone within shouting difference. It also didn't help her mood that she had been slowing down on drinking whiskey, stating that 'I ain't no good if I'm fuckin' hammered'. Arcade would have been almost proud of Cassidy for finally cutting down on alcohol consumption, if he didn't think it would result in Cassidy smacking him upside the head.

"We're just worried about you, Cassidy." Arcade explained, following behind. "At the rate you're going, you're gonna kill yourself from over-work. What's Lyra-"

As soon as that name escaped Arcade's lips Cassidy stopped dead in her tracks, her shoulders tensing up and dropping the papers to the ground. Arcade knew he had definitely stepped over some boundaries, as he prepared for the tounge-lashing of the century. Instead, Cassidy's shoulders just slumped, all of the air seemingly having been let out of her. The former caravaner leant against a nearby wall, slowly sinking to the ground until she collapsed into a heap and looking...defeated.

"Two months since anyone's seen her, Arc. Two. Fucking. Months. That's how long Lyra's been gone." Cassidy muttered, running a hand through her unkempt red hair. "We've got the NCR, the Brotherhood, even the motherfucking Enclave trying to find her. And the results? Goddamn fucking nothin'. Nadda, zilch, zero."

Arcade stood there for a few moments, before he slowly sat down to sat next to Cassidy. This was...well he was not at all prepared for this. Offering emotional support was definitely not an area Arcade was an expert at, especially towards a woman who constantly had walls up and refused to show weakness in front of everyone. So to have Cassidy, someone who'd rather run naked across Camp McCarran than talk about her feelings, pouring her heart out right now definitely left Arcade confused about what exactly he should do.

"And I...I don't know. This ain't Lyra's style, at all." Cassidy continued. It was as if she couldn't stop talking, now that she had started. It was as if the emotional dam had finally broken for her. "She'd have told someone or left a message, or fuckin' something. She wouldn't just run off and leave behind everything. Her fuckin' casino, her friends, her job, her...why would she leave me, Arcade?"

Her words fell off into a small whimper, as she turned to face Arcade. This wasn't the same angry look as before, where she glared straight into the doctor's soul. No, this was a hopeless look, a look of someone trying to find answers and needing comfort. It was the look of a woman who had been forced to fight for results her entire life, suddenly forced to deal with a situation she couldn't solve herself.

"Cass...Lyra must have had a reason for disappearing." Arcade stated slowly, choosing his words delicately. This whole conversation was full of landmines and he definitely wasn't going to get blown sky high today. "She would never just pack up and leave without telling us."

"That's whats been stressing me, doc. Keeping me up at fuckin' night and shit." Cass muttered. "Lyra's made so many enemies. The Fiends, the Omertas, the fucking Legion...what if this is some kinda revenge shit?"

"Cass-"

"You know how fucking scared I am, doc?" Cass interrupted, her hands balled so tightly they were turning white. "That I'm gonna wake up one day and find her fuckin' body outside the Lucky 38? Or the NCR finding her goddamn head stuck on a pike? Or even worse shit? I'm fucking scared Arcade."

Arcade reached over, squeezing Cassidy's shoulder. "Listen, Cassidy. I don't blame you for being upset. This is a highly stressful situation. But this is Lyra we're talking about; a woman who managed to survive two bullets to the brain and being buried alive. She has had obstacles tossed at her ever since she stepped out of Goodneighbour and has been overcoming every single one of those obstacles. Lyra is...she's the bravest person I know, Cass. And you know what I think? Wherever she is, she is fighting tooth and nail to get back home. You know why? Because she wants to come back for you. Lyra would never abandon you, Cassidy; she loves you too much."

Cass had fallen silent at Arcade's words, her eyes looking straight at the carpeted floor beneath her. A deep shuddering sigh escaped from her, her whole body quivering, before falling silent again. After what had seemed like an eternity, with Arcade unsure of how exactly to proceed, Rose of Sharon Cassidy slowly stood up. Rubbing at her eyes and fixing her hair, the fear and anxiety had left her face, instead replaced by a steely gaze of determination.

"You're fuckin' right, doc. I'm lucky my old man ain't here to see me, bawlin' like a goddamn newborn." Cassidy stated, grabbing the papers off the ground roughly. "I'm gonna get that Yes Man fucker to scout out in the south-east area; it's all old Legion territory, we might fuckin' find some new clues. Oh and doc? Tell anyone about what happened and I'll drag your ass to the top of this casino and toss you throw a window, get it?"

Suddenly, the sound of the elevator opening filled the presidential suite. Cassidy and Arcade turned around to face the door to the recreational room, wondering who had just exited the elevator. A few moments later, that question was answered, as Craig Boone walked in. A small smile was on the sniper's face, which was somehow not the weirdest thing that had happened today so far.

"Just received a radio from Tech Sergeant Reyes." Boone stated. "One of the sentries at Camp Forlorn Hope spotted a group of four individuals leaving a bunker that used to be Brotherhood property. Two regular people, a Ghoul and a Mutant."

"And I give a fuck about this, why?" Cass inquired.

"One of those people was reported to be Lyra." Boone answered. "Didn't believe it myself, until I got another radio transmission from Lieutenant Gorobets. Apparently both Betsy and Ten of Spades saw the group as well. They both said it was Lyra."

Silence fell in the presidential suite, as the weight of what Boone had just said made itself known. Cassidy and Arcade shared a look, before the former caravanner closed the distance between herself and Boone.

"...Boone, I am gonna ask ya this once and once only." Cassidy stated simply. "Do ya trust these two with what they saw?"

"They're both First Recon." Boone answered.

"Could be the fucking President of the NCR, don't mean shit to me." Cass fired back, getting right in Boone's face. "Do ya trust them? Cause right now I ain't in the mood for false hope, kay?"

"I've known the two for years. Fought alongside them, had their backs and they had my back." Boone explained. "If they were to say something, I'd trust them. The group was apparently spotted heading to the 188 Trading Post."

"Wait a minute, the 188?" Arcade interrupted. "Veronica trades there often."

"First thing that came to my mind." Boone responded. "So Veronica should be able to radio us and confirm whether or not this group is who we think they are."

"Fuck that, Boone!" Cassidy shouted. "I'm gonna be hauling ass straight to that fuckin' trading post myself! I ain't waiting on no-one to tell me whether or not these fuckin' rumours are true!"

"There wouldn't be any point." Boone responded. "Veronica is already there and I think we can trust her in being honest with us."

"Doe she know, at least?" Cassidy retorted.

"I radioed in at the 188 Trading Post myself." Boone stated. "Veronica knows about these visitors and is going to confirm their identities herself.. We should be hearing from her within the hour."

"Boone, ya better be right about these rumours." Cassidy stated, collapsing into a nearby chair. "Because I swear to gawd, I'll fucking break something if Charlotte isn't in that group."

"Maybe I should be making my exit." Arcade muttered. "Or at least move out of hitting distance from her."

 **And Chapter 5 of New Beginnings is done and dusted. I hope to see you folks at the next Chapter!**

 **Love,**

 **The Desert Dancer**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Love Conquers All

 **I do not own Fallout: New Vegas, that belongs to Bethesda and Obsidian.**

While the Mojave was all abuzz about the news of a Courier Lyra Redcloud sighting, like a Cazador nest discovering a fresh corpse, the sun was beginning to set and washing the irradiated desert in a dull glow. Walking across the cracked and ruined highway, a quartet of travellers made their way north. A few Molerats and Cazadors tried to attack the group, but soon fell to their skilled attacks. Before long, most of threats out in the desert decided that this group wasn't going to go down easily, moving on to easier and less deadly prey.

"So tell me, my little Courier." Dean Domino stated. "What are the casinos of Vegas like now? Still as prosperous as they once were?"

"Well we don't call it Vegas, at least now anymore." The Courier responded. "It's called The Strip, now."

"The Strip?" Dean inquired, a disbelieving tone to his voice. "Sounds positively garish."

"And there's only three casinos, all run by former tribes." Lyra continued. "There's The Tops casino, run by the Chairmen; they're the best of the bunch, although that's not saying much. Then there's the Ultra-Luxe casino, run by the White Glove Society; they wear masks and are all mysterious and stuff, but they also eat people. Then there's the Gamorrah...they used to be run by these snakes, the Omertas, but well there was a whole change in management and the Omertas got run off. Now its run by these new guys, called the Wrights. They're apparently big in the NCR, from what I've heard."

"Wait a minute, eating people?" Christine interrupted. "Has this Society been stopped?"

"Funny story there. Well I mean...no its not funny, its about cannibals." Lyra explained, running a hand through her hair. "The White Glove Society used to be cannibals before joining up with Mr House and running casinos, but some crazy guy called Mortimer wanted to "return to the Society's roots", as he put it. So the genius kidnapped a wealthy Brahmin baron called Heck Gunderson's son and planned on serving him up as the main course."

"And you interfered?" God asked, eyebrow raised.

"Me and my friend Lily snuck in, drugged the wine there, knocked out the chef Phillipe and rescued the kid." Lyra continued on. "Since we drugged the wine, knocking out most of the Society, just a simple matter of returning the kid to his father."

"And what happened with this Mortimer fellow?" Dean inquired. "I doubt you let him off with just a slap on the wrist and a telling off."

"Oh, I convinced Majorie, the leader of the White Glove Society, to hand Mortimer and Phillipe on over to Heck Gunderson, who then proceeded to march the two guys outside of the Strip and shot them both in the head." The Courier answered. "It was the only way to convince Heck not to cut off the food supply to The Strip. The man really likes his frontier justice, I guess."

"For a warrior and a tribal, you rely heavily on speech and words." God stated, a bemused tone to his voice. "You are most unusual, in that aspect."

At those words, Lyra stopped dead in her tracks, turning to face God.

"Oh, should I have rubbed bones together and started praying to the sky gods for answers?" Lyra inquired, eyebrow raised. "You shouldn't judge someone because of what they appear to be, God. You of all people should know that."

A stunned expression appeared on the Nightkin's face, shocked by Lyra's answer. Even if Lyra couldn't see it, Christine and Dean shared similar expressions. The Courier usually let God's snide remarks slide, but it appeared she had maybe finally reached her breaking point. God let out a small chuckle at that and shook his scarred head, a leering grin appearing on his face. The Nightkin then lifted his head up, as if sensing something, before turning around and punching the air. Before Lyra or the others could ask what on earth was going on, a loud feminine grunt was heard and the air began to shimmer.

 _"Stealth Boy",_ Lyra automatically thought, as she prepared Two-Steps Goodbye

"Wait Lyra, don't!" A new voice shouted, from out of thin air.

While God and Dean looked ready to deal striking blows, Christine and the Courier stopped dead in their tracks. Lyra's mouth fell open and her eyes went wide with shock, while Christine took a step backwards. A few moments later, a person suddenly appeared from out of thin air. It was a young woman, wearing a dirty looking cloak and a worn Power Fist. The young woman's face was dirty and tired, but had a fire in her eyes that blazed like a thousand suns.

"…V?" Lyra inquired, a shocked tone evident to her voice.

Veronica Santangelo had a wide grin on her face, as she rushed forward and enveloped Lyra in hug that could only be described as 'bone-crushing'. The Courier let out a grunt from the surprise contact, before she responded with a hug of her own. God and Dean stood on the sidelines, hesitant looks on both of their faces, while Christine remained silent and had a stony expression on her face.

"Lyra Recloud, you absolute nutcase, where have you been!?" Veronica demanded, still holding the Courier in a tight bear hug. "You've been gone for two months! We've searched everywhere, even under Boone's bed, trying to find you! Cass has been ripping everyone a new one, even General Oliver!"

"T-two months?" Lyra muttered, eyes wide in shock. Had it really been that long? Time just felt like it had stopped back at the Sierra Madre.

"Yes, two months. As in, a long-ass time." Veronica responded. "As in, where the hell have you been and where did you round up this rag-tag bunch?"

"Well..you ever hear of a place called the Sierra Madre?" Lyra inquired.

"I've heard a couple of stories, but I didn't think they were real. At least, til now." Veronica answered. "You actually went into the Madre? What happened?"

"Later, promise." The Courier responded. "I just…..I just wanna go home."

The Brotherhood scribe nodded her head, an understanding look on her face, as she untangled herself from Lyra. Before the two could continue their conversation, a loud cough filled the air. Lyra and Veronica turned around, to see Domino and the other two travelling companions standing there with interested looks on their faces.

"Oh damn, I guess I'm more tired than I thought." The Courier muttered. "Totally forgot about you guys."

"Charming. Absolutely charming." Dean muttered, shaking his head. "Well, aren't you going to introduce us to your sneaky friend here?"

"Um Veronica, these are the people that helped me out at the Sierra Madre." Lyra responded, gesturing to her three companions. "They're God, Dean and...well this is Christine."

As soon as the last name fell from her lips, tension quickly filled the cool desert air. A frown appeared on Veronica's face, as she looked at Christine. The frown quickly transformed into a look of recognition, as she realized who exactly was standing in front of her. The scarred Brotherhood member let out a defeated sigh, like a prey realising it was cornered by a predator, as she looked up and stared at Veronica.

"Oh my god..." Veronica muttered. "It, it can't be. Chrissy?"

"Yes, it's me Ronnie." Christine responded, a bitter smile on her face. "In the scarred and ugly flesh."

Veronica stood there silently, horror in her eyes, as she slowly lifted her hand up and gently clasped Chrisitne's cheek. The Brotherhood Knight flinched at the sudden contact, unused too such intimacy after months of loneliness, before Royce managed to calm herself down enough. A hardened look appeared on Veronica's face, as her fingers traced across the many scars that covered Christine's face. Dean, God and Lyra just stood back silently, knowing it was a very bad idea to try and interrupt this moment between the two former lovers.

"What happened to your voice? And these scars, who did these?" Veronica asked. "Was it Elijah?"

"Surprisingly, no." Christine grunted. "My face was carved up at a place called Big MT, where they had all these scientific experiments gone wrong. Was locked inside of an Auto-Doc and had my brain and face ruined. As for my voice…that happened in the Madre. Woke up inside of an Auto-Doc, and had my vocal chords attacked over and over again until I started to sound like these pre-war singer called Vera Key–"

Christine's explanation was cut short, as Veronica rushed forward and enveloped the Brotherhood Knight into a tight hug. Christine stood there stunned for a few moments, before her breathing started to become more rapid. The Courier could see that Christine was freaking out from being squished by Veronica, with Lyra making the save. She walked towards the two women and patted Veronica on the back, causing the Brotherhood scribe to let go of Christine and turn to face Lyra.

"Lyra, I love you like a sister and I've actively encouraged Brotherhood members to name their kids after you, but I'll punch you in between the legs for interrupting this." Veronica stated. "You know who this is! It's Christine!"

"And Christine is not a fan of hugs." Dean interrupted.

Veronica glared at the Ghoul singer, before she saw Christine. The Brotherhood Knight had started to lightly sweat and her breathing had become erratic, as she stared down at the ground. Veronica's eyes widened slightly, a horrified look on her face, as she took a step back.

"Chrissy, I didn't mean that." Veronica responded. "It's, it's just been so long and–"

"It's fine." Christine muttered, cutting off her former lover. "I've just…..I'm changed, Ronnie. I ain't the girl you loved before. I'm an ugly fucking nervous wreck, who can't even be hugged without crying like a little bitch. The Chrissy you knew is dead, Veronica; all that's left is me, Christine."

"….Are you kidding me?" Veronica asked. "You're not ugly; I've had to deal with worse. You see Hardin recently? Guy looks like someone left meat out in the sun for hours."

"Veronica, have you even looked at me?" Christine asked, letting out a harsh laugh. "I'm bald, my face has been sliced up like a Brahmin steak and I have the voice of a woman who died over 200 years ago! I'm fucking ugly, even by Wasteland standards!"

Tension filled the air, as Veronica stared down the shaken Brotherhood Knight. With surprising speed, Veronica walked towards Christine and gently grabbed the scarred woman by the shoulders. As Christine lifts her head up, a frown on her scarred face, Veronica leans in and plants a gentle kiss on Christine's forehead. The scarred woman seized up at that, a shocked look on her face, as she stared into Veronica's eyes.

"You have always been the most beautiful woman I know, Chrissy." Veronica stated firmly. "You've only just become more badass in my eyes, to be able to go through stuff like that and being able to still be standing. I don't care about how you sound or how you look; all I care about is that you're back, and I'm never letting you go again. I love you, Christine Royce."

Christine just stood there silently and blinking back tears, as she heard Veronica's little speech. The scarred women let out a tiny sigh and closed her eyes, as she leant forward and planted a soft kiss against Veronica's lips. Veronica's eyes widened slightly before she returned the kiss with equal gentleness, as Christine wrapped her arms around Veronica's waist and pulled her close. The two lovers just stood there, the world becoming just background noise to them, as all they could focus on was the sensation of their lips connecting and the passion that flowed through their veins.

"I'm as much of a romantic as the next man, but there's a time and place for everything." Dean interrupted, a disapproving tone to his voice. "I'm sure you two can continue your make-out scene once we reach Vegas."

Christine and Veronica's eyes snapped open, the moment shattered, as they slowly pulled apart. A faint blush was evident on Veronica's face, while Christine was panting lightly before she slowly untangled herself from her lover.

"As much as I hate to admit, the singer is right." God growled. "We have nearly reached our goal and it would be beyond foolish to abandon that goal now."

With that, God and Dean turned around and started heading north, leaving the rest of the group behind. Lyra turned around and gave Christine and Veronica a thumbs up and a wink, before turning around and jogging to try and catch her friends. The two Brotherhood members just stood there silently, unsure of what to say.

"Well, I don't know about you but I certainly enjoyed that." Veronica chuckled. "But Chrissy…..I know things have changed and we've become different women, but I still think we can work together. We can go slow, but I really do wanna try."

"Even though I look like shit and get panic attacks at the drop of a cap?" Christine inquired.

"You'd still want to go out, with me?"

"Well, would me kissing you again be enough to convince you?" Veronica inquired, a flirty tone to her voice.

Christine let out a small chuckle at that and just shook her head, before she slowly reached over and gave Veronica's hand a firm squeeze. Veronica smiled at that, as the two turned around and tried to catch up with the rest of the group. While Christine and Veronica had suffered hardship after hardship and being constantly dealt bad hands by life, it seemed fate had decided to be kind to the two lovers by dealing them this sympathy card.

 **We're nearly at the end of this little story, just one more Chapter left! I hope to see you wonderful readers at the final Chapter!**

 **Love,**

 **The Desert Dancer**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Try Your Luck

 **Hey there everyone, welcome to the very final Chapter of New Beginnings! I want to thank each and every one of you wonderful and fantastic readers, for sticking by me and this story. I hope you enjoy the conclusion to this wonderful story!**

 **I do not own Fallout: New Vegas, that belongs to Bethesda and Obsidian**

By the time the sun had started to rise on the Mojave desert, the small group of travellers found themselves standing in front of the ruined gates of Freeside. Anyone else wouldn't have given it a second look but for Lyra, it meant more to her than all of the gold of the Sierra Madre. A wide grin appeared on Lyra's face, as she ran and hugged the blonde-haired doctor standing near the entrance. She couldn't believe it, but she actually missed hearing Arcade and his rambles and rants. The Courier's companions stood on the sidelines quietly, not particularly interesting in chatting with complete strangers. While Veronica and Christine went and quietly talked with one another, small smiles on both of their faces, God and Dean silently examined their surroundings and took everything in. The relationship between the Nightkin and the Ghoul was an odd one, mainly because they rarely interacted with each other without receiving prompts from either Charlotte or Christine. The two may have walked in the same circles, but rarely did those circles ever connect the two together.

"Should we be surprised?" Dean inquired.

"Surprised about what, singer?" God growled.

"Our little mailman friend, over there." Dean explained, gesturing to the smiling Courier. "When I first saw her, she looked exactly like a fish out of water and I doubted she'd be able to even make it into Puesta Del Sol, let alone open up the casino. But apparently looks are quite deceiving, as it appears our courier friend here isn't a pawn, but rather a queen piece."

"Humans are good at wearing disguises, hiding behind masks and lies so they don't show their true selves." God responded. "The Courier may look like prey, but underneath those golden locks is the brain of a predator who enjoys the chase."

Dean merely nodded his irradiated head at that, as he lit up a cigarette and took a puff. The Courier was currently crying tears of joy, as she hugged some doctor looking fellow with blonde hair. The doctor returned the hug awkwardly, a smile on his face. Dean briefly wondered if the two were in some sort of relationship, before shaking his head silently.

No, it definitely wasn't a relationship like that. The Ghoul singer had prided himself on his ability to pick up things from just observing them, and his observational skills were telling him that this relationship was platonic at best. A small chuckle escaped Dean's ruined lips, as he took another drag from his cigarette.

"Does something humour you, singer?" God growled.

"Oh, nothing to worry yourself with, my dear mutated fellow." Dean responded. "I just have a hunch about something, and I'm waiting to see if that's correct."

"Still playing your cards close to your heart?" God inquired.

"It's the only way I've ever played the game of life and I'm still standing." Dean muttered to himself, tossing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath his heel. "So it must be worth something then."

* * *

Rose of Sharon Cassidy sat on the front steps of the Lucky 38 Casino, anxiety bubbling within her stomach. Rex the cyberdog knelt by her side, gently rubbing his head against Cass's jeans. The former caravaner would've normally given the dog a nasty glare; his mechanical parts tended to put tears and rips into her jeans and a good pair of pants were pretty hard to come by. But today wasn't a normal day, not at all. Two months, two fucking months, of waiting and fearing the worst, Lyra was finally coming back home. God Cass could've down an entire bottle of whiskey right now, if she didn't think it would come right back up and onto the pavement.

Why was she so fucking nervous? She shouldn't have to be, she shouldn't. That smartass Arc explained everything, about how she shouldn't be nervous as shit. It certainly made sense to Cass at the time but now...now she couldn't even think straight.

"Hey Cass, everythin' okay there?" A rough voice inquired. "You look like you expect a _demonio del infierno_ to appear."

Turning around, Cass turned to look into the beady black eyes of Raul Tejada. The Mexican Ghoul was leaning against a wall, hunting revolver in hand and decked out in his ridiculous ghost vaquero outfit. Cass couldn't help but let out a snort whenever she saw Raul wearing that outfit; she could only hope she didn't look as silly when she got old and grey. But hey, she couldn't be a total bitch to the guy. 200 years wandering the Wastes would make anyone do, or in this case wear, weird things.

"I'm just thinking, Raul." Cass responded. "Like, how ridiculous you look in that getup. You look like one of them, whaddya call me, piñatas from the Pre-War World. Should we go 'n get some kid to whack ya with a stick, see if some candy pops outta ya?"

"Your sense of humour is as strong as your alcoholism, Cassidy." Raul deadpanned. "I am truly glad that my old body managed to drag itself across the dangerous wastelands and beat off deadly beasts, so that I may be able to hear one of your inventive comebacks."

"First off, I haven't had a drink in at least a week." Cass fired back. "Second of all, fuck you."

"Now now Jimmy, no need to be snarky." A gravelly voice interrupted. "And Becky, be nice now."

Standing a bit away was the gargantuan figure of Lily Bowen, a wide grin on her pale blue face. The Nightkin was wearing her best straw hat, or at least the one that looked like it hadn't been dragged through a hedge backwards. Floating next to the mutated grandmother was ED-E the eyebot, happily beeping along.

"The name ain't Becky, Lily." Cass sighed. "We've been through this, 'member? It's Cassidy, Rose of Sharon Cassidy. And handsome over there ain't Jimmy, it's Raul."

"…Oh, oh yes." Lily muttered, slowly shaking her head. "Of course, you are Cassidy. I guess I haven't had my medication today."

Cassidy just shook her head at that, a frown on her face. It seemed every day that old mutant was losing touch of reality more and more often, even if she did take her meds on a semi-regular basis. For some fucking reason, Lyra convinced Lily to continue taking her meds at half-doses, instead of the full doses that old doc in Jacobstown recommended. Cass had tried to find out why exactly Lyra did this, but the only answer she ever got was something about 'not letting old stories die' or some cryptic shit like that. Didn't make a lick of sense, but right now that whole shitshow was pretty low on her list of fucks to give.

As expected, Boone just stood near the door of the Lucky 38 Casino, eyes hidden behind his favourite pair of sunglasses and remaining as silent as a ghost. Cass could admit it, Boone creeped her out a lot. She knew snipers had to be stealthy and shit, but no-one should be able to be as quiet as Boone could be. That sneaky fucker could've walked from one end of The Strip to the other without anyone spotting him. Boone sent chills down Cass' spine and she gladly would admit that she preferred sleeping when she knew Boone was back in Novac.

Shaken from her inner thoughts by the sound of Rex barking, Cassidy lifted her head up to see the gate of the Strip opening up and a small group of people walking in. Cass recognized Veronica, as she only knew one woman who would willingly wear fucking burlap, but she didn't recognize the scarred gal she was all cuddly with. Arcade was also with this group, a wide grin on the doctor's face. There was some Nightkin carrying a sack, a Ghoul in a tuxedo and…

Cassidy had already gotten up and was dashing towards the group once she saw who was in charge of the group. The Courier had a wide grin on her pale face and pure joy in her eyes, as she too started to run. The two women soon collided, embracing each other with a fierce hug. Before Lyra could say anything, Cass had already tipped the Courier backwards and smashed her lips against Lyra's, Her eyes widened slightly, before she returned the kiss with equal force. Cass could hear some cat calls and wolf whistles from people in the crowd but fuck them with a cactus, she could deal with them later. All that the Californian native gave a shit about right now was the woman she was holding in her arms.

"Hey lovebirds, how about taking it back to your room?" Veronica called out, a cheeky tone to her voice. "I don't think the Gamorrah would be happy if you two started doing it right there in the street; you might take away business from them."

A scowl appearing on her face, Cassidy removed herself from the kiss and glared daggers at Veronica. Normally she loved the young Brotherhood girl, but right now she wanted to punch that little bitch in her smug face. Lyra, on the other hand, had a slightly dazed look on her face and her skin had gone an embarrassing shade of red. As the rest of Charlotte's friends swarmed her, giving her hugs and pats on the back, the Courier couldn't help but grin widely at all this attention. After a while, Charlotte raised her hands in the hopes of getting everyone's attention.

"Listen, listen guys!" the Courier announced. "I know, it's been two months. I have a good reason for being gone, though! But first…..we gotta have a party or something. Not only to welcome me back, but to also introduce my new friends!"

God, Dean and Christine turned to face Lyra at the last bit of her announcement, surprised looks on all three of their faces. The rest of Lyra's friends couldn't help but stare at these three strangers. While the Courier did tend to travel with strange people, these three…looked dangerous. They had a predatory vibe to them that Cass and the others just couldn't shake. Seemingly sensing the tension that was about to be born, Lyra reached over and hugged Cass, a wide grin on her face.

"I can convince Swank to let us borrow the Presidential Suite for one night." Lyra stated, a wide grin on her face. "He owes me a favour, after all."

* * *

Nighttime had fallen on the Mojave Wasteland, and the party was in full swing. It might have taken a bit of convincing to get Swank to hand over the key to the Presidential Suite, but a few gentle words and a shiny gold bar from Dean managed to sway the leader of the Chairmen. Somewhat surprisingly, the party was pretty subdued, mostly consisting of Lyra introducing everyone and trying to explain everything that happened at the Sierra Madre. When it got too much for the Courier, and the memories became a bit too raw for her, Christine or Dean took over to fill in the gaps.

After a while, the group split up to do their own things. ED-E and Rex went to the corner of the room, talking in a language that was only understandable between the two of them. Lily stood watching the TV near the lounge area, seemingly fascinated by the static picture. Veronica and Christine sat on the couch, catching up on lost times and swapping stories. Raul, Boone and Dean meanwhile were hogging the pool table, with the Ghoul singer proving that age hadn't hampered his pool skills. Cass and Lyra were at the bar, making up for lost time and being a bit too frisky for each other.

Meanwhile, God stood in the corner of the room, flicking through one of the few books in the casino that was still mostly intact and readable. The scarred Nightkin was not a people person at the best of times and offer glares at anyone who tried to make conversation with him. After seeing Arcade dash off after receiving a less than subtle threat from God, Lyra walked over to the Nightkin.

"What did you say to Arcade?" Lyra asked.

"Oh, was that his name?" God muttered, eyes focused on the book in his giant hands. "He seemed to be too busy blathering on about dead philosophers to offer me the courtesy of a name."

"You know, you don't have to be nice." The Courier sighed. "But you could at least be civil to the people I call my friends."

"I've only travelled with you, my little Courier, for what you've done for me and Dog." God explained. "You freed us from the old man and you convinced Dog to sleep and you told me the truth about you, even though I had to practically rip it from your soul with my bare hands. Your friends, I care not for them. And quite frankly, I've seen enough of casinos for one lifetime."

"…what are you saying?" Lyra inquired, a frown on her face.

"I won't be setting down roots here." God stated simply. "According to that Nightkin you call Lily, there's a Super Mutant settlement in the mountains that is working on a cure for mutants like me. I am heading there, to see if they can fix me."

"Fix you? But I already did that." Lyra retorted, confusion evident in her tone. "I put Dog to sleep, let you be the dominant one."

"That's not a fix. That's just putting a bandage over a gaping wound, when it needs stitches." God sneered, shaking his head in annoyance. "Dog may be asleep now, but soon he will wake up, beyond starving and furious over being forced to sleep. More than likely, Dog will turn on me when he wakes up and silence me permanently, before he goes after the person who forced him into slumber; you."

"Me?"

"Dog will be furious you tricked him, that you forced him into his cage and made him sleep." God explained, shaking his head. "And he will become apoplectic when he discovers that you killed his master. Dog will destroy entire settlements with his bare hands, just to get to you. So, I must head off to this Jacobstown and meet this miracle doctor, and just hope that this cure will be enough to permanently silence Dog."

"But….what if it isn't enough?" Lyra asked, worry in her voice. "What if Dog still finds a way to take over?"

"Well, the answer is simple then." God responded cryptically. "Take away that option before Dog can access it."

Before the Courier could say anything else, God nodded his head before turning around and walking towards the doors. Lyra just watched silently as she watched the scarred Nightkin exit the room and, more than likely, exit from her life. The sounds of footsteps filled the air, as a hand reached around and wrapped itself around Lyra's stomach. A small smile appeared on Lyra's face, as she saw the tangles of red hair and the smiling freckled face of her lover.

"Heya gorgeous, what was that all about?" Cassidy inquired, an intrigued tone to her voice.

"Just God having to deal with personal issues." Lyra explained, shaking her head. "Needing to find inner peace."

"Ya love your cryptic answers, don't ya love?" Cassidy stated. "But ya always loved them, you sneaky cute girl."

The retort on Lyra's lips died a quiet death, as Cassidy's hands snaked down to Lyra's waist and gave it a gentle squeeze. A red flush appeared on the Courier's face, as Cassidy placed a kiss on Lyra's neck.

"In front of everyone, Cass?" Lyra muttered, obviously embarrassed.

"I thought...I thought you were dead, Lyra. I'm just tryin' to make up for lost time, ya know?"

Lyra let out a small chuckle at that. "Let's take this to the bedroom, huh? I'm sure Arcade doesn't need to see this."

* * *

Minutes had stretched out to hours, with the party long finished. Everyone had either wandered back to the Lucky 38, to one of the other casinos or had just headed to Freeside. Lyra and Cassidy, however, currently found themselves in the master bedroom of the Presidential Suite, tangled together in a lazy hug. Lyra rested her head against the sleepy Cassidy's chest, feeling at ease as she felt her lover's heartbeat against her cheek. But she didn't feel calm, not at all. She just felt this crushing feeling in her chest, as if someone was strangling her heart. Slowly lifting her head, Lyra turned to face Cassidy; she needed to get something off of her chest.

"Hey Cass, can we talk?" Charlotte asked, a nervous tone to her voice.

"Can it wait til mornin', love?" Cass muttered. "Got worn out from all making you scream my name."

"It's important." Charlotte answered, firmly. "I'm…I'm so fucking stupid. And I'm sorry.

Silence filled the Presidential Suite, as Lyra's words hung in the air. Cass slowly lifted her head up and Charlotte could see the frown on Cass' face, even if the lights had been dimmed. Cassidy reached over, gently clasping her lover's hands.

"The Sierra Madre thing still bothering you?" Cassidy asked.

"I was gone for two months, Cass. Two. Months. Everyone thought I was dead." Lyra muttered, shaking her head slowly. "And I might as well have been, because it was fucking hell. The Sierra Madre...it was evil. Just a place full of death and hatred and emptiness. And the Ghost People and the radios and it was just all -"

The Courier's words were cut short, as Cassidy leaned forward and enveloped Lyra in a tight hug, their lips connecting into an electric kiss. Lyra felt some of her anxiety and stress slowly melt away, as she let herself be enveloped by the woman she loved. After what seemed like an eternity, Cassidy slowly pulled away.

"Listen Lyra...I don't know what the fuck you went through at the Sierra Madre. I just can't; it sounded like a damn hell on earth." Cassidy stated, a firm tone to her voice. "But...But I'm here for ya, you know? I'm here for ya to talk to and stuff, to try and help you get through all this bullshit, even if we have to do it one day at a time."

"You're too nice, Cass." Lyra mumbled, smiling a bit.

Cass let out a loud chuckle at that. "Shit, that's probably the first time anyone's every said that 'bout me. But I'm here for you, Lyra. You're stuck with my ass, from now til the end."

A wide grin appeared on the Courier''s face, as she heard that. She hugged the Californian native closed and pressed her lips against Cassidy's, with the two women becoming lost in the moment. While this definitely wasn't the end of their story, and the Courier with two names will be facing great challenges in her future, all that mattered to her was right now. Lyra just cared about the fact that she was sharing her bed with a woman who loved her unconditionally and had her back no matter what and to the Courier, that was all that mattered right now.

 **And New Beginnings is done and dusted; I hope to see you guys in the future and 2020!**

 **Love,**

 **The Desert Dancer**


End file.
